No, You Hang Up
by Inks Inc
Summary: My take on the "Dead Air" saga. Tim & Ziva can't explain why they did it, they just know that they did it. They left Tony in the field, without backup. Can their damaged relationship with their SFA survive, and be healed? Or is it just one step too far. WARNING: Contains references and allusions to Spanking/Corporal Punishment, with no actual on screen scene. (Completed One-Shot)


Running an eye through the recently faxed over bank records, Gibbs barely registered the return of his three agents as they emerged into the bull pen. Looking up, his eyes found Tim first. "What did you get?" he asked lightly, hoping for some kind of a break. Their current case was driving him next to nuts, and he wanted it wrapped up as quickly as humanly possible. He was perhaps too tired and in need of caffeine boost that he didn't notice McGee's hesitation and slight aversion of eye contact.

"Uhh nothing boss, it was a dead end."

Sighing, but expecting the answer, Gibbs nodded before sweeping out of the bull pen in agitation. Everyone knew he was on a coffee run as they threw themselves down at their desks. Tony's eyes instantly found his monitor as he settled, whilst Ziva and Tim's eyes flickered between his tense body and each other. Each of them was wrestling with a severe, sickening guilt that was growing like bacteria-esque binary fission with every passing second. Ziva felt her skin crawl with self loathing as she looked over at her teammate.

"Tony," she murmured, blanching when he didn't even look up at the sound of his name, "we…we are so-" She was cut off by the slamming of a Mickey Mouse stapler. "Don't talk to me," Tony hissed through gritted teeth, "don't even look at me. I'll pretend that everything is just _peachy,_ like the good little pushover when the boss is here, but when he's not….don't you _dare_ speak in my direction." He paused to shoot a look at Tim that the younger man had never before witnessed on the normally happy-go-lucky agent's face. "That goes for you too McGee," he spat, "you and I, and I and _her…._ we're done."

With that, he summarily dropped his head back to his monitor without an additional syllable being uttered. Tim and Ziva felt their stomachs contract in unison as they suffered an acute lack of response in the midst of Tony's speech. Not even looking at each other, the two dropped their own heads unseeingly to their own desks. Looking at a haze of paper and LED displays, Tim felt sick. Really, _really_ sick. Their turning off of their receivers whilst Tony went door-to-door undercover, in search of leads had seemed kind of funny, at the time.

Now…now he saw it for what it was.

Disgraceful, unbecoming and downright mean spirited. He'd been an agent long enough to know that anything can happen within the realm of a split second. They'd left their teammate out there with no back up, no communication and no way to call for help. Not only that, but they'd _sniggered_ about it. Like a pair of bitchy, immature high school girls. Tim didn't need a reflective surface to know he looked clammy and pale. He rarely did things that caused such introspective disgust, but this…this one took the biscuit.

He and Tony…they'd become close over time. Not that that stopped the older agent driving him absolutely insane at times, but…they were no longer simply junior and senior agent. He counted Tony as a close friend, and they'd taken to hanging outside of work frequently. All of them, Ziva and Abby too. At the sudden thoughts of Abby, Tim closed his eyes in despair. She'd have his guts for this. She loved Tony, and he knew she wouldn't be able to countenance the idea of what he and Ziva had done.

If he hadn't _just_ done it himself, he wouldn't either.

Across the bull pen, Ziva was twitching nervously and pulling and tugging at her Star of David necklace. She felt positively unwell. If she were under torture based interrogation, she would not be able to explain _why_ they thought it was a good idea, or even an _acceptable_ idea to mute Tony's side of the many, many conversations he was labouring through. His various routines and lines _had_ become tiresome to listen to, but no more tiresome than what Tony was struggling through. She felt a cool sweat dampen the back of her neck as she thought about the endless possibilities of harm that could have befallen their teammate.

And they would have been none the wiser… because they were too stupid, pig headed and damned disloyal to have his back. They had left them out there in the field like an exposed piece of game, and she wasn't sure how in the hell they could ever come back from it. In their line of work trust, absolute and unshakable trust is the only way a team can operate in the field. And they had broken that trust, she knew it the minute they had so glibly informed Tony that he had being flying solo out there. She thought back to her time on Team Gibbs, and from the word go, the importance of having your partner's six had been fundamental.

And they hadn't.

They, really, really hadn't.

Looking down unseeingly at a muddle of reports and data in front of her, she fought the urge to vomit. There was no reasonable justification for what they had done. They had behaved like a pair of miserable, spineless and unreliable fools. She couldn't blame Tony in the slightest for his attitude towards them, and frankly she was shocked he hadn't told Gibbs. She knew that his sense of teamwork would possibly prevent that, but in his current state of hurt she genuinely couldn't believe the fact that he had kept it together in front of the man.

Both guilty parties thoughts were interrupted by the re-entrance of Gibbs, and both held their breath as if he could just smell their transgression upon their air. Talented though he was in determining such things, Gibbs was too caught up in the case to notice the subtle alarm bells that were ringing off of the collective body language in his bull pen. He was too engrossed in the report he was reading to actually register the eerie silence in the communal area. All in all, he was too damned busy to notice the way Tony had his body as far from the other two as their rather tight confines could allow for. He was too absorbed to notice the guilt that was brimming out of both brown and green eyes.

The "gear up," order was sudden and loud, and it startled all three younger members of the MCRT. Scrambling to their feet and grabbing their gear bags they followed Gibbs to the elevator. Tim and Ziva bit their lips in misery as Tony placed himself in the farthest corner of the lift, keeping his gaze firmly trained on his feet. As the door pinged, the team lead seemed to finally register the deathly silence that seemed to roar in their metal confines, and looked around his silent team.

His brows knitted together when he took in the stiff body language of his second in command, and the oddly miserable and shuffling body language of his junior and youngest agent's. Before he could say, or figure out _what_ to say, if anything, his cell pinged and his attention was once again sucked into the case. All too soon they were out in the field, and Gibbs was too preoccupied arguing with jurisdiction sucking LEO's to notice how far and how diligently Tony kept his distance from a rapidly drooping Tim, and a paler than pale Ziva.

Grateful for his boss' tirade, given that it kept his attention off him, Tony photographed the scene with a heavy, sickening feeling swimming around his stomach. The acidic stench of betrayal seemed to cling to his expensive suit as he listlessly snapped the shots of the violent chaos that surrounded them. He still…couldn't believe it. He knew he could be a pain in the ass, it was just a part of his charm. It wasn't as if McGee or Ziva were without their faults.

He snorted viciously, causing a pigeon to take affronted flight.

But…turning off their radios, deliberately breaking the chain of communication that an undercover, no matter how temporarily, agent depended on? His mind still couldn't take it in. He had pulled some crap in his time, but _nothing_ like this. Hell, it wouldn't even cross his mind. And _he_ was the prankster. Not them. Because this wasn't a prank. This was a "screw him and throw him to the wolves," kind of situation, and Tony continued to rack his brains to think about what he had done to deserve the kind of treatment his supposed friends had meted out.

Thinking back on the joking, careless way they had informed him that he had been out in the field basically butt naked, made his skin crawl. Their smug smiles, their joint joke joining them in their laughter against him. He shook his head as he snapped another shot and wished he could call it a day and sink into his sofa and drink himself uncaring. But…he couldn't, not yet, and so he snapped another vicious shot, causing another pigeon to soar off. Time wasn't a concept he was focussing on, and so it felt like ten minutes later when they were heading back to the Navy Yard. Gibbs, throwing his gear back onto his desk, his head full of the case, barking out instructions to continue with the leads they had before heading up to MTAC.

Once again alone, in the pressing confines of the bull pen, Ziva, Tony and Tim felt an uncomfortable silence cloak over them. It bothered McGee and Ziva a lot more than it bothered Tony, as he stared listlessly down at the documents on his desk. He felt…alone. Even though the office was a hive of activity, and phones were shrilling, announcements were blaring…he felt like he was in some bizarre silent movie, where no one could see or hear him.

His lips twitched upwards mirthlessly.

That was pretty accurate.

Because _apparently,_ some of his "closest friends," didn't _want_ to see _or_ hear him.

He could hear them trying to talk to him, but his head didn't move. His face gave no indication that their words were making their way to his brain. He didn't see the deeply concerned and regretful looks that were being exchanged between the two. He didn't hear Tim's desperate "please…Tony, I'm so sorry…" and he equally didn't hear Ziva's near teary "I did not think it through, it was a terrible thing to do Tony…I am also sorry."

He just…didn't hear.

And if he had…he wouldn't have cared.

His mind was still reeling.

About that time…when he thought he'd been a bully. When he thought he'd given that weird kid a hard time. When it eventually turned out, that his mind…it had played tricks on him. It had reverted the roles of the past, placing him in the position of power. Was that situation replaying itself? Had he imagined the bonds of comrardary between he and the other members of Team Gibbs. Had he completely fabricated the feeling that the two agents beside and across from him had his back? He suddenly felt a flash of panic.

Their job…was dangerous.

And maybe he didn't have the wife, the kids and the Labrador. Maybe he didn't have the picket fence, but…his life still meant _something_ right? Well, maybe not to Tim McGee or Ziva David…but in general, didn't human life mean _something?_ How could he…go out into the field every day, with people who would so carelessly turn their backs on him with not only a complete lack of a second thought, but with a stupid grin?

How could he _work_ with these _people?_

They didn't have his six.

Hell, they didn't even have his lunch order.

He stared unseeingly down at his desk.

How could he move on from this? How could he come into work every day with that smile on his face, and pretend that the people across from him weren't disloyal and unprofessional? How could he keep up the pretence in front of Gibbs for an indeterminable period. The man was as natural an investigator that Tony had ever come across. He would smell the tension in the air. And he was like a dog when it came to catching a scent, and he would dig.

And dig.

And he would find the truth.

He always did.

Standing abruptly, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and grabbed a file to go to Abby's lab. Looking over at the wide sets of eyes that clamped on him he sucked in a breath. When he spoke his voice was unnaturally cold, and it almost seemed to set an unearthly chill through the office. "I'm not going to go to Gibbs with this," he muttered, "that's not my style. We have no choice but to work together, but I will do my damndest to make sure I'm _never_ left in the field, alone, with either of you unprofessional, hypocritical excuses for agents. Like I said, we're done."

He paused for another breath.

"But I don't want the boss sniffing around this, because frankly, I don't want to tell him his _precious_ Ziva and his _perfect_ Tim are, in reality, a disgrace to the job." He shook his head in disgust. "So, I'd advise you two, as your _senior_ field agent…to put your damned game faces on, and act your part." He took a moment to smile so coldly a passing intern nearly tripped over his own feet. Turning towards the lift, he called chillingly back over his shoulder.

"It shouldn't be a problem for you…acting is apparently something you guys are _great_ at."

With that, he was gone. Swallowed up in the swish of the elevator doors.

Leaving a breathless Tim and Ziva in his arctic wake.

Looking over at McGee with heavily uncharacteristic distress and moisture in her eyes, Ziva shook her head causing a mass of tangles curls to obscure her face. "What are we going to do McGee?" she murmured, her Israeli accent showing heavily as it always did when she was distressed. Staring at the point at which his friend had disappeared, Tim shook his head slowly and felt his soul shrivelling up in his gut. "I don't think…there's anything we _can_ do Ziva," he muttered, a slight creaking crack in his voice, "I don't think…he can forgive us."

He looked down at his hands that were trembling with guilt and emotion.

"I don't think _I_ can forgive us."

Over at her desk, Ziva stared down also, a burning misery brimming in her brown eyes.

"I…do not think so either."

Silence resumed, as each agent lapsed into their own guilty thoughts, completely unable to explain their behaviour and being completely crushed under the weight of its consequences. Tony…didn't deserve what they did. Hell, no one did. But _especially_ not Tony. He, who was loyal to a fault and who would and indeed _had_ risked his neck for them on countless occasions.

Down in the lab, Abby was staring at Tony in confusion.

"There _is_ Tony…" she muttered anxiously, "there _is_ something the matter with you. I can _feel_ it. Your mojo…is all wrong. You're sending out all these bad vibes," she sucked in a dramatic breath, "you didn't get your toothpaste and moisturiser mixed up again did you?"

Across the other side of the sterile lab, Tony barely stifled a sigh.

"Fine, Abbs," he muttered, "I'm fine." Gesturing towards the file that lay on the table, he raised a brow. "What do you make of that?" he asked, plastering a fake smile on his face and trying to keep the resident misery he felt out of his voice. "I don't speak maths," he added, winking at the still dubious looking scientist. Eying him for what felt like an eternity, Abby apparently seemed to accept his "I'm fine," assurances, and dropped her pigtails into the papers in front of her.

He concealed his sigh of relief.

Just as Abby looked up to give her interpretation of the data he brought down, the lab doors split open and Gibbs swooped in, Caf-Pow in hand. Planting a kiss on Abby's head, he looked at Tony curiously. "What ya got DiNozzo?" he asked, sipping a coffee and looking at the papers on the table. Reaching out and grabbing them, Tony found the energy to plaster the toothy smile on his face and shrug slightly. "Not much boss," he smiled, "just a maths problem I needed Abby's help with."

Before Gibbs could open his mouth, Tony nodded at no one in particular and sped from the lab.

Staring at Abby, with a raised brow, Gibbs shook his head somewhat. "Something I said?" he asked quietly, but concern was dripping from his words. Staring at the spot that Tony had just hightailed it from, the scientist shook her head in self-annoyance. "I _knew_ it," she groaned in agitation, "I _knew_ there was something wrong with him." She turned an anxious face to the team-lead.

Taking the words out of her mouth, Gibbs smiled slightly but couldn't help but remember the downright sense of… _misery_ that had exuded from the kid when he had entered. Planting a parting kiss on the top of Abby's head, his "I'm on it," was reassurance enough, and she watched him also leave, cursing herself for swallowing all the "I'm fine's," that had fallen out of Tony's mouth.

Shaking her head, she resolved that if Gibbs didn't get to the bottom of it, _she_ would.

Back up in the bull pen, the atmosphere was decidedly chilly as the team-lead re-entered the communal area. Walking slowly to his desk, his senses were suddenly well and truly raised as he caught the…shift, in demeanours of all three of his people. Seating himself slowly, he glanced over the rim of his coffee cup and frowned thoughtfully. Levelling his gaze first at Tim, his frown deepened.

Staring, silently, and for a prolonged period his findings were perplexing.

His junior agent…seemed desperately miserable. Guilt ridden, and paler than all hell. Gibbs felt his brows raise as he turned his attention to his senior agent. Taking in the tight line of his jaw, and the carefully angled body posture, he felt his brows rise to tickle his hairline. If he had to guess, and when it came to his team, his guesses were usually spot on, he would guess that Tony was…furious. But…furious, with a healthy dash of the same level of misery that was seeping from Tim. Maybe even more. Beginning to wonder what in the hell was happening in the space of the day's business hours, which were still young, he turned a confused gaze to Ziva.

His brows were straining with the pressure of their continued ascent.

His youngest agent was perhaps his most emotionally closed off, but right now…she was leaking feelings like a chemical puddle of angst. Her eyes were full of…was it regret? He blinked. That was _definitely_ regret he was seeing. He ran a hand through his hair, his interest fully peaked. There was…something going on. He could almost _taste_ the tension in the air. Snapping to a decision, he cleared his throat.

"McGee, Ziva…go and interview the ex-radio staff we've narrowed down. Be back within the hour."

The two agent's started, looking at him as if he'd asked them to do an interview on Mars, before quailing under his rapidly souring expression and clambering to their feet. It didn't take an eagle to spot the looks they exchanged as they passed Tony's desk, and the way the senior agent physically moved himself unconsciously away from them as they passed.

Gibbs' gut was churning now.

Whatever this was, it wasn't their usual squabbling.

Mooching to his feet and trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, knowing Tony could clam up tighter than an oyster when the mood took him, he ambled over to his second's desk. Perching on the side of it and looking down pointedly as the younger man looked up with carefully neutral expression, he raised a brow. "Something I can do for you boss?" the kid asked politely, but without his usual chipper charm. On closer inspection, the usually twinkling green eyes seemed…dull, and had a sort of…deadened quality about them.

"Something I should know about, Tony?"

He wasn't famed for beating around the bush, and he wasn't going to start now.

The wide, yet a fraction too delayed to be believable, innocent eyes didn't fool him for a minute. His swimming stomach encountered rougher seas in response. "No boss," the younger agent smiled, with the wide grin not meeting his eyes, "all good over here."

Nodding slowly, Gibbs pondered for a beat. "Really? There's nothing…oh I don't know, going on between you, McGee and Ziva? Nothing there that I should know about, or that you want to tell me? Nothing at all?" There was a ringing silence in response as Tony chewed his lip. Why in the _hell_ should he protect those two? Why _should_ he protect them from the presumable wrath of Gibbs, when they weren't willing to go through the inconvenience of doing their _jobs_ to protect him in the _field?_

He opened his mouth, stalling at a cross roads.

Before snapping to a decision.

"No boss," he lied listlessly, knowing that whatever _they_ were, they weren't going to turn _him_ into what he was _not._ And he was not a rat, or a tattle tale or a whiner. He never had been. He wasn't going to start now. Looking up at a silently staring Gibbs, he knew the man didn't believe him. He hadn't exactly put the most effort forth in selling his lie, so he wasn't all that surprised. Besides, it required a special level of sociopathic ability to get a lie past the boss-man, and Gibbs knew all his tells, even the ones that he didn't know himself.

Staring down at his second in command, Gibbs warred with himself.

The kid was lying. There was no doubt about that. And there was also no doubting the fact that whatever was going on, ran a lot deeper than the three's usual bickering. Tony…seemed genuinely deflated, and resembled nothing at all of his usually chipper self. Gibbs felt his concern sky rocket when he realised that the boy didn't even care that he knew he was lying.

He scrubbed his face.

Pressing Tony when he clearly didn't want to tell him what was going on would, from experience, make getting answers next to impossible. But the idea of leaving him to stew in whatever pot of misery he was currently embroiled in was about as appetising as sour milk. Chewing his lip, Gibbs decided to do mesh the two options together. "Alright," he mumbled quietly, "I know there's something going on, and I know that _you_ know I know there's something going on, and I'm going to give you…some time, to come to me with it."

He paused.

"Unless you sort it out, whatever it is amongst yourselves in the space of twenty four hours, I'm going to have to… _insist,_ that you spill the beans on whatever the hell is happening around here. Because…I know I'm getting old, but when you three left here this morning, everything seemed fine." He sighed slightly, eyeing Tony closely. "And now, it isn't," he added gently, "and I can tell it's more than just your usual sniping…" Swinging himself up off the desk, he arched a brow down at his still muted second.

"Twenty four hours Tony," he repeated slowly, "and then _I_ settle….whatever this is."

With that. he shot one last saddened look at his equally sad agent, before walking back to his own desk. He may _indeed_ be getting older, but his ears were as sharp as ever. And they caught the quiet, more to himself mumbling of "this is not something you can _fix_ this time…" that wafted around the other end of the bull pen. Seating himself slowly, and fighting the urge to interrogate the truth out of the kid, Gibbs did Tony the kindness of pretending not to hear what he was never meant to hear.

But his mind was reeling.

He'd seen Tony angry, confused, downright pissed off and fed up. But never…deflated. Never this shrunken version of the kid that sat listlessly with green eyes as lank as the most defeated grass crop. His mind wandered to Ziva and Tim, and he wondered briefly would he be any more successful in gathering information from them. From what he could tell, and he was pretty damned good at the business of telling, there was rift between his three that had Tony on his own on one side, and McGee and Ziva on the other.

Abby appeared, mercifully, uninvolved in whatever the hell had unfolded since this morning.

Time passed furiously, and before he knew it his thoughts were interrupted by two of his minds most pressing concerns. Tim and Ziva re-entered the bull pen, and the tension that came with them was palpable. Gibbs' eyes narrowed as they skirted past Tony's desk, to land themselves at their own with downcast eyes. Tim's mumbled "that was a dead end boss, we turned up nothing," was quiet, fervent and borderline incomprehensible.

Darting his eyes to Tony, Gibbs' radar went through the roof when he saw that the agent hadn't given one jot of notice to the fact that the two had re-entered the bull pen, or that McGee's jittery voice was ringing out right beside him. Scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration, he could just _tell,_ given that he was pretty damned good at the business of telling, that the likelihood of garnering any intel from his junior and youngest agents was also next to negligible.

His nostrils flared.

He hated feeling useless, and right now…uselessness was _all_ he felt. He had given Tony time, and he had to respect that. But…a part of him knew that the kid wouldn't come to him, and another part of him knew that the situation between the three couldn't be resolved internally, amongst themselves. These parts were quietened by the roaring part of him that screamed at him to get off his damned ass, knock their heads together, and get to the bottom of it.

But he couldn't.

Because it wasn't that kind of a problem.

He didn't know _what_ the problem _was,_ but he did know it wasn't _that_ kind of a problem.

His pondering and thought process was so consuming, that when coupled with the complete brick wall they had hit with the case, he didn't notice the time spiralling past to the backdrop of clattering computers in the background. That was until his body screeched at him for a caffeine top up, and he glanced at the clock. Sighing, he felt an ache in his back from his rigid seating posture and decided to call it a day. Standing, he pulled his sport coat from the back of his chair and shrugged into it, the movement catching the eyes of all three.

"Wrap it up," he ordered quietly, "we'll start again from scratch tomorrow."

He watched in chagrin as Tony suddenly demonstrated Olympian-esque speed, and darted for the elevator so fast, it made his head spin a bit. Standing in the middle of the bull pen, with a still seated Tim and Ziva, he strode to and perched on the edge of his desk, alternating his gaze between the two of them. He felt his concerns, if it was even _possible…_ rocket up even further. He had _never_ seen either of the pair look so guilty before.

And he'd seen them guilty just _plenty._

He drew in a breath and steeled himself.

"Alright you two, just what in the good _hell_ is going on here? You may as well tell me now, because you know as well as I do, I sure as hell am going to find out."

There was a complete, yet momentary silence to his query, and he continued to alternate his gaze between the two as it descended over them. The pensive quietness was broken when, as if in practiced tandem, both Ziva and Tim reached for a piece of paper on their desks and stood. Making their way over to him, their eyes were brimming with a misery he hadn't, despite his concerns, quite forecasted.

It set his teeth on edge.

They reached him at the same time, one on either side of him, and wordlessly held out the paper in their hands, which he reached out for on instinct. He looked nonplussed for a second, before glancing down at the respective, yet very similar leafs in his hand. His features went from exuding a complete confusion, to a shaking shock, before morphing into the darkest anger either of the two younger agent's had ever seen on their boss' face. He read and re-read their letters of resignation, detailing in no uncertain terms the reason for their notice to terminate, visibly unable to get his head around it.

Eventually looking up, he felt an invisible hand constrict upon both his heart and his throat.

"Is this a joke?" he whispered, in the first sense of frailty that the two had ever head. "Is this some sort of a joke?" He looked down at the letters one more time and shook them furiously. "Please…tell me this is a _joke?"_ One look at the stricken faces staring back at him, and he knew as well as he knew his own name, that this was _no_ joke. This…was the explanation he had been craving. And it was the explanation that was now tearing him up inside as all the pieces of the puzzle joined together in their united effort of slapping him in the face.

He blinked rapidly and tried to regain composure on himself. His hands were shaking with shock and the beginnings of a truly dangerous anger was pulsating through him like an electric current. Looking at the two in front of him, for the first time…he felt disgust. He felt truly, and utterly, through the red hot haze of anger…disgusted. Shaking his head in a fruitless attempt to clear it, he ran an incredibly frustrated hand through his hair. Clutching the resignations in his hand, he took in a deep breath and pointed at the agent's in front of him.

"Stay here. Do not move, until I come back."

His voice, if he could have truly heard it, would have registered as being borderline unrecognisable to him. It was higher than usual, and dripped with a coldness that was usually reserved for the most prolific of perps. It wasn't a voice he had ever used, in all his years, with any of his agent's. It was definitely a first. Turning on his heel, without even looking at the two in front of him…he darted for the elevator.

Throwing himself into it, and jabbing the buttons with a fierceness he strode around the metal box like a caged lion, so filled with rage, it seemed to seep from him and coat the steel walls. The minute the doors pinged open, he burst through them, resignations still in hand and sprinted down the hallway that led to the parking lot. If he was lucky…Steve would be on security, and for the first time in his Naval career he would be truly grateful for the man's unrivalled ability to delay god, man and beast.

Bursting through the last set of double doors, his prayers were answered.

A highly irate looking Tony was _still_ trying to exit the premises, barely concealing his irritation with a completely unperturbed Steve. Pushing forwards, thankful for his fitness Gibbs barrelled into the last security clearance area without breaking a sweat. Landing behind Tony, who instinctively turned, he opened his mouth.

But nothing came out.

He suddenly, didn't know what to say.

Anger was consuming him in a terrifying way as he stared into Tony's confused face. The fact that the boy… _his_ boy had been out there in the field with no back up….made his hackles rise in a way that few other things did. The fact that his lack of back up had been the result of some _bull-headed_ notion taken by agents _junior_ to the man in front of him, made his hackles defy the laws of freaking gravity.

Tony tilted his head in confusion.

"Boss?" he muttered slowly, "everything ok? You break a lead on the case or something?"

He didn't think it was possible to break a lead on the case in the ten or so minutes he'd spent trying to escape from his freaking hellacious day, but anything could happen, and he was already mentally preparing himself to drag his feet back to the bull pen. The case still had to come first, but all he wanted to do…all he _really_ wanted to do…was sit and drink. To throw himself down on his couch and stay there till morning dictated he rise.

"I know, Tony…I know."

The younger man blinked.

The voice that was coming from the man in front of him sounded nothing short of anguished, and his heart instantly sank. He did _not_ want this realisation to come to pass, and he did _not_ want to be trapped in the aftermath of it. He just wanted to put today in his rear view mirror and never, ever think of it again. Of course, he logically knew that was impossible.

He logically knew that he couldn't feel safe in the field any longer. He logically knew that the day's events would spread their tentacles, and leech into the coming days and weeks, staining them with its stink. He logically knew….that the unwavering trust he had had in McGee and Ziva to have his back…it was gone. It had taken years to build, but only seconds to tear down and burn. That trust…it was burned and the earth it once stood upon, salted. Nothing would ever grow there again.

It was…gone.

But, he didn't want to have a baring of the souls about it. So, digging deep down, as deep as he'd ever had to he found and plastered the toothy grin on his face. He felt his facial muscles whine in protest at the unnaturalness of the gesture, but kept it in place. "You know what boss?" he quipped lamely, "that it's time to admit defeat and have your eyes retested? Because…I've been telling you that little nugget for _years_ now."

He laughed nervously, so nervously that Steve looked up and rolled his eyes.

These _agents._

He was sure glad he wasn't one of them.

Sure glad…

Gibbs looked at Tony with an expression that even the most seasoned of shrinks would find difficult to define. His being was exhaustively beleaguered by conflicting emotions. Rage, at Tim and Ziva. Cold contempt, for Tim and Ziva. Futile attempts at comprehending the actions of, Tim and Ziva. Rage on behalf of and for Tony. Cold contempt on behalf and for Tony. Futile attempts at finding the _words._

"What they _did_ ," he eventually mumbled quietly, "I know…what they did."

Tony groaned.

Once it was said out loud, there was no glossing over it with glib deflections. Running a hand through his sandy brown hair, he instinctively knew that his couch and beer hopes and dreams were slipping away fast. "How?" he asked flatly, not knowing if he actually cared about the answer or if he was just trying to fill the oppressive silence between he and his boss. Hesitating for a moment in response to the muted question, Gibbs eventually held out the paper in his hand that Tony had not originally noticed.

Taking them out of instinct, Tony dropped his head into them and scanned them rapidly.

His complexion paled just as rapidly.

Mouthing wordlessly into the sheets in his now trembling hand, he looked up at a silently observing Gibbs and spluttered and sputtered slightly. "Did…did you make them do this?" he asked, holding up the now terribly wrinkled papers, "I…how… _did you_?"

The older man shook his head slowly.

"No… they gave them to me…first I heard of what happened today, was from them." He jerked his head in the direction of the resignations, "I _read_ about it." He slammed his mouth shut then, and tossed a loose hand over his shoulder. Following out of instinct more than anything else, Tony trudged behind the elder agent, his head pulsating as he tried to digest another plot twist.

They cared enough to _resign?_

His head swam under the conflicting actions of the day, and he barely registered that he had followed Gibbs into the…singular purpose, abandoned conference room. Looking up as the door snapped shut, alerted by the horrifically familiar sound, he felt himself pale and back up a bit. "Boss," he mumbled weakly, "c'mon man, I didn't technically _lie…_ well, ok I did, but for good reason" C'mon…I just…"

Gibbs gaped.

Before snapping to with a groan.

"No no," he blurted, " _no_ Tony…you're not in trouble." He threw his arms to the room at large, "this is just the only completely private place I know in the building to talk." Rubbing a hand through his hair, he caught the now _very_ bewildered expression on the younger man's face, and raised a much gentler than usual brow.

"What is it?"

Tony chewed his lip in evident bewilderment.

"Since when do _you_ want to… _talk?"_

Snorting somewhat at the accuracy of the thinly veiled accusation, Gibbs shrugged his shoulders slightly before sobering. "I want to talk…when two of my people, put the _life_ of one of my best people on the god damned line for reasons known only to the frigging Lord. So yeah, usually…I sure as hell don't want to _talk_ …but I'll make a damned exception for this."

He instinctively reached out and grabbed Tony by the shoulders, gently, and looked at him steadily.

"You're in a whole world of hurt right now, huh?"

Gawping somewhat at the emotional intuition, Tony flushed slightly and made a rather lacklustre attempt to brush off his current misery. "I'm not a thirteen year old girl that had her BFF _like totally stab in the back,_ boss…I'll get over it."

Gibbs cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"…What's a BFF?"

Tony shook his head slowly in exasperated exhaustion. "Never mind," he mumbled, "look…forgive the tone boss, but I just want to get the hell out of here. I don't want a tea and sympathy party, I just want to forget the whole mess that goes by the name of today and never think of it again. Ok?" Wriggling out of the older man's grasp, Tony jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Can I go now?"

Shaking his head sadly, Gibbs sighed.

"Sorry Tony, no can do."

Turning he pulled out a chair from the conference table that was coated in a thin layer of dust, and indicated for the younger agent to do the same. Gritting his teeth, but knowing resistance was futile, Tony threw himself down ungracefully and stared down at the film of dust that shifted slightly at his gate. The corners of the resignations still clutched in Gibbs' hand swam in his peripheral vision as the team-lead placed him on the table in front of him.

"Look at me, son."

Staying resolutely still for a moment, Tony eventually gave way at the sparingly used term of endearment. Looking up, with that gut wrenching listlessness in his eyes he looked at the man in complete dejection. He was suddenly very tired. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to try and get his head around the fact that Tim and Ziva would do what they did, and then turn around a mere couple of hours later and do a complete u-turn.

"First of all," Gibbs suddenly muttered, using the silence to his advantage, "I owe you an…apology."

Tony felt his eyeballs strain in their sockets.

"Come again?"

Clearly struggling, Gibbs took a deep breath as he broke one of his most sacred of rules. "I…should have intervened sooner," he explained quietly, "I know that you, McGee and Ziva are closer than just colleagues," he held up a hand as Tony made to contradict him heatedly. "You might not feel like it right now son, and I don't blame you, but…you know what I'm saying is true. But…over time, I think the boundaries have been blurred…"

He scrubbed a hand over his face in regret.

"You are my _senior_ field agent Tony," he continued slowly, with an obvious note of pride in his tone. "You are _me_ , when I'm not there. I think…that's gradually been forgotten down in the bull-pen. You and the others, you may be equal in terms of friendship, but you are…particularly when I'm not there, their supervising agent."

He looked over at the younger man with regret splashed across his face.

"I don't think I've ever been as angry with the two of them down there as I am right now," he admitted, "I don't think I've ever been as surprised by and disgusted with anybody under my command. But…I should have seen it coming. I should have seen where the lack of respect would lead. And I should have stepped in sooner to address it, and…I didn't."

The regret suddenly morphed into an almost terrifying mask of sincerity.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Gibbs concluded simply, "it won't happen again."

There was a silence so stunned in the immediate aftermath of the most unprecedented speeches Tony had ever sat through. Gaping slightly, he eventually mustered the sensibility to shake his head in contradiction, whilst admittedly feeling a little warmth drip back into his frosty soul at his boss' words. "It's not your fault," he countered, "you didn't make them….do what they did."

Gibbs shook his head sadly.

"I should have seen it coming," he repeated, "I've been around the block a few times, and I've seen how friendships between differently ranking agents can cause friction in the field. The signs were there…and I didn't act on them. If I had, I think you and I both know that you would have those two's full attention out there today. But I didn't, and so you didn't. And…that's on me."

He stared intently at the once again startled into silence, Tony.

"But for everything I've just said," he continued, "McGee and Ziva…they _do_ respect you. They just haven't been showing it, and its led to them to the _very_ wrong conclusion that they can act like assess for no other reason than they think that there's no one there to call them on it." Sucking in a deep breath, he pressed on. "I know you think that I dote on Ziva and that I think Tim is perfect, Tony…but you're wrong. I can see their faults, just as well as I can see the things that I admire."

He halted, wondering how much more air he could force into his lungs before they exploded.

"I'm sure as hell not going to sit here and make excuses for either of them," he continued, a slightly hard edge creeping into his tone, "because…what they did, it's inexcusable. I mean what I say, I'm disgusted and I'm all kinds of livid. But…the call, and I know you're thinking about it Tony. I know you're thinking about what happens next. And…I'm telling you here and now, what happens next…is up to you."

He picked the resignations of the desk and held them in the air.

"If you want to accept these on my behalf, I will back you. If you want me to…deal with things myself, I will back you." He shot a serious look across the table. "I mean it Tony, you're going to decide what I do with this. If you want their badges, that they've volunteered, then that is what we'll do. If you want their asses, then…that's what we'll do."

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and prayed to god he was doing the right thing.

"Whatever you decide," he concluded softly, "is what we'll do."

With that, he slid the resignations over to his stunned as all hell second, and snapped his mouth shut in relief at the end of his long ass speech. Even though his mouth was resting, his head was not so fortunate. It was reeling. He didn't know if what he was going was the right call, and he didn't know in _all_ honesty what Tony would do. And he also didn't know about how _he_ would feel about what Tony was going to do. He had been truthful when he said that he was absolutely disgusted with his two agent's, but…he didn't _want_ them gone.

He would never want that, for any of them.

He was confident in his ability to oversee the patching up of the subtly wounded relationship between his junior, senior and youngest agents. He was confident that their feelings for each other, and their deep rooted connection was entirely salvageable. He was confident that the disgraceful conduct that had taken place today was capable of being totally eradicated from either agent's realm of thought for the future.

…but, he was also confident elsewhere.

He was confident that his second in command had suffered an entirely unwarranted blow out there today. He was confident that Tony was hurting in a way that he couldn't make better with his usual gruff, but well intentioned fire roasted steak and a beer. He was confident that Ziva and McGee were now sick with regret. He was confident that if Tony chose a certain path that was, when he questioned them about their rationale and conduct, they genuinely wouldn't be able to explain it.

Because no one ever _could_ explain the moment when all the little things, blew up into the big thing.

Because they never saw it coming.

Unlike him, who had, and who shared in the blame. Regret coursed through him once more as he remembered the jabs he had heard across the bull pen, and hadn't nipped in the bud, thinking it youthful exuberance. Regret coursed through him as he thought of the subtle put downs Tony had received from both Ziva and McGee, hell even Abby too. But…even given the situation, he _had_ to be fair. Tony…could drive the most saintly of all saints crazy. Sure, it was part of his charm, but…it did have its side effects. All in all, he barely resisted the urge to groan as he sat in the silence that enveloped he and his second in command.

He was suddenly exhausted.

This…was _not_ how he had anticipated his day panning out. Before he could think any more upon his failures and the divide that sprung up between his field agents, he was pulled from his reverie. "If I choose the uhh… _Gibbs way,"_ Tony suddenly asked uncertainly, "what will happen to them?"

The team-lead raised a brow.

"What do you think would happen to _you_ if you had done what they've done?" he responded slowly, knowing his point had been made by the slight flush that stain Tony's cheeks in response. "I don't think I'd ever sit again for the rest of my earthly existence," the younger agent muttered, more to himself than anything as he stared down at the resignations. The nearly identical, entirely forthcoming resignations. His eyes still widened at the neat paragraphs, outlining in no uncertain terms the author's full and frank admission of events, and subsequent need to withdraw from the agency so as not to place a team-mate and a friend in jeopardy ever again.

Not knowing what else to say, and knowing that baulking as to being burdened with the decision making process of the agents fate, would be useless, Tony cleared his throat. "Why would they do this?" he asked, with an odd mix of admiration and raw bitterness in his tone, as he held up the resignations. "Why would they _do_ this…it makes zero sense?"

At this, Gibbs couldn't quite stop the desperately sad smile that crossed his face.

"It makes all the sense in the world son," he contradicted gently, "it makes all the sense." Seeing Tony's expression of confusion deepen, he scratched his head and wondered faintly how many sentences were left in him. "If you had done what they did…how would you feel right about now, when you'd realised that what you _idiotically_ thought was just some sort of _moronic_ prank…had affected either one of those two?"

Tony blanched immediately.

"I'd feel…ill."

The nod across the table somehow managed to exude a sadness in its jerky movements. "Let's just say…they realise now," he explained quietly, "what they've done, and what it's done to you. I'm guessing that's one realisation that when it hits you, it damned well hits you right in the gut."

His voice hardened for just a second.

"Not that they don't deserve it."

Tony stared silently. His brain was keening under the weight of that which thundered around in it. Staring at the sheets of paper, and back his now quiet boss, he had never felt more burdened. Suddenly realising that agonising over the decision was just going to make it worse in the long run, he took, as he had many times before, a leaf out of LJ Gibbs' book.

He went with his gut.

Standing abruptly, and clutching the letters in his hand he pushed the chair under the table. "I'm guessing they're still downstairs right now?" he asked quietly, and was answered with a nod. "Ok then, let's go," the young man muttered, before striding towards the door. Rising out of instinct, Gibbs stared. He _had_ intended to tell Tony to take his time with his decision, but as he took in the taut posture and the determined stance, he knew…this was something he had to do now.

And so he followed.

He deliberately walked behind, instead of his usual place in front, as Tony silently led the way back down to the bull pen. There were few moves and decisions that his lot could make, that he couldn't take a gambling chance on the outcome. Today, had been a day where the exception to that rule had hit him square in the jaw. Both with McGee and Ziva, and now with his second in command.

What Tony would decide, he legitimately couldn't say.

He would just have to wait and see.

Like Ziva and McGee.

The bull pen as they entered was suffocating in its silence. Looking past Tony's shoulder, Gibbs' eyes widened a fraction as he saw a matching file box on both Tim and Ziva's desk that were already full of their personal effects. Sitting mutely behind the now bare and sparse workstations, sat his junior and youngest agents. They looked up upon their entry, and both already very pale faces paled further when they got sight of Tony leading the way.

Both stood instinctively and made to open their mouths, no doubt to profess their undying regret once more. Both were waved down by a jerk of Tony's hand as he came to a halt in the middle of their two desks. Clutching the now very beleaguered looking resignations in his hand, he waved them silently before drawing in a deep breath and seeming to battle with himself. A look was shot to an equally silent Gibbs, who gave a slight nod as if answering an unspoken question.

Tony sucked in another breath.

"You two…betrayed me," he said, and his voice rang clear, "you left me out there for dead. I'm not exaggerating, I don't care if we're in the Sahara or the suburbs…you _never_ leave your partner unattended. And for that…I don't know how long it will take for me to forgive you two morons."

The looks of shock on each face cut him short.

"You mean," Tim spluttered, "you…think that you _can_ forgive us?"

His question, dripping with shock, was mirrored quietly on Ziva's drawn face.

"There's a part of me right now, a big part," Tony answered slowly, "that absolutely hates both your freaking guts. I get that I can be annoying sometimes, and that listening to me go on and on probably wasn't that much _fun,_ but what you did is something I'd _never_ do. Not as a cop, and not as an agent. Even if I hated someone with a passion, I would never leave them out in the field alone. Which is why what you guys did is so below the belt I don't even have the words."

He paused for breath.

"But…yeah, McGee, Ziva…I think I can forgive you, but not today and not tomorrow. But…eventually, because…" he halted, throwing a deep look at the two of them. "Because the logical part of me knows you made a stupid, massive and downright base level mistake. I know…" his voice hardened a little, but he pushed on. "I know _logically_ that you didn't mean me any _harm…_ but…you're just going to have to wait for the non-logical part of me to catch up with the logical, and I'm telling you here and now, it'll be a long damned wait."

He looked at Gibbs for a moment, who was looking at him with a Gibbs-ish sense of pride.

And yet…it held no direction. The expression on his face was neutral, it wasn't guiding.

Tony felt a stab of gratitude.

"Boss here says it's up to me whether or not to accept these," he continued, holding up the resignations once more. "And trust me, my immediate reaction was to take these, kick you two out and frame them on the god damned wall till kingdom come. You might not like it, and you might not even _realise_ it, but _I_ am _your_ senior field agent. And I'm not asking you to kiss my ring, but I am asking you show me _some_ level of respect. I've never once treated you as anything other than my teammates and my friends, but if you _want…_ I can totally pull of the whole SFA deal in all seriousness."

He paused.

"Like Fredrickson, up on fifth for example."

There was a deafening silence.

Frederickson, SFA to the team on the fifth floor, had made fifteen probationary agents cry, fourteen quit within their first month, and had an insane number of internal reviews pending. Tony DiNozzo was no Ralph Frederickson, and in that moment…Ziva and McGee felt, if it was possible, even worse. Tony…despite his teasing and borderline chauvinistic remarks, was one hell of a SFA. He had his people's backs to the end, his loyalty unwavering.

They ought to have thanked their lucky stars they had a DiNozzo, and not a Fredrickson.

Not act with mindless, careless and downright reckless disregard.

The knife in both their guts twisted further as they thought of their actions and the impact it was having on their friend.

"Yeah, didn't think so," Tony muttered in response to their obvious thoughts and comparisons. "So…I guess the bottom line is, you can shove your resignations where the sun doesn't shine. Both of you. If you want to make this up to me, and show me you give a damn about my freaking six, you need to be _here_ to do it. Not running away like a pair of five year olds. So, no, your resignations are not accepted, because they are _unacceptable._ And…well, I guess my part here is done," he looked over at Gibbs, who for the first time walked slowly to his side, and clapped him on the shoulder with a meaningful look, before turning to the others.

"I'll keep this short and sweet," he said slowly, "Tony here, _not_ that _either_ of you deserve it…has decided to give you another chance. But let me be clear. This…is _not_ over. If you choose to withdraw your resignations, then you both will be having a very, very long… _conversation,_ with me. And bear in mind, I have never been this angry with either of you, or let down by an agent's actions. And the conversation is just for starters...you're going to find your privileges around here are going to be _very_ different for quite a while." He grasped Tony's shoulder tightly. "Get it into you _heads,_ Tony is me, when I am not here. You _will_ treat him with the respect that that brings, or there won't be an option to withdraw your resignations. I'll kick you so hard and so fast off my team you'll need your damned passports for your landing."

He sucked in a breath, keeping his hand on Tony's shoulder.

"Is that clear?" he muttered, "and are you _crystal_ clear on what is going to happen if I throw your letters in the trash?" Usually, in the wake of such a pronouncement that an absolute tanning was in store, each of his people had the same reactions. The _running for the hills_ reaction. But…not this time. This time, there was an unmistakable look of complete and utter agreement with what he had just said. There was no concept of wheedling or protesting, or bargaining to get out of it. Just a quiet, albeit shocked, acceptance.

And Gibbs knew the shock wasn't his lack of gentleness that he usually portrayed when he had to do the one thing he hated to do the most. He knew the look of shock was attributable to the fact that they were being given the _option._ That _Tony_ …had saved their asses.

…from being fired that is.

Ziva broke the silence first, giving a firm nod and an equally firm "yes Gibbs," before turning her attention to Tony who stared at her silently. Taking a breath, her eyes flashed with a passion that he had rarely seen before. "I am so sorry Tony," she blurted out, a highly uncharacteristic crack in her voice. "You will never know how sorry I am…I can only _promise_ you….that such a thing will never, ever happen again. You…" her voice faltered once more, "are…important, to me."

There was no question of doubting her words.

It was as clear as day that she meant every ringing syllable.

Nodding slowly, Tony managed the faintest of all faint smiles and a very quiet "thanks, Ziva…"

As if on cue, Tim cleared his throat and all attention was on him as he stood awkwardly at his desk. "I was a moronic jerk," he admitted quietly, "and I'm so sorry Tony, I…I'm really, really glad you're willing to let us try and make it up to you."

At this, Tony couldn't _quite_ help but flash a hint of his old smile.

"Be careful what you wish for McGee," he mumbled, "I can be pretty creative in making up ways for people to make up things…"

Tim's determination didn't waver a jot. "I don't care," he responded softly, "I don't care what it takes. I mean that."

Tony, at a loss for words, merely nodded in response.

Taking this as his cue, Gibbs cleared his throat slightly. "Alright," he muttered, feeling a _little_ less aggrieved with his two culprits, "it's been a long day, and Tony…you should get home. You two," he continued, jerking his head at Ziva and McGee, "you're coming home with me. Move it, now."

There was no hesitation.

Ziva and McGee grabbed their gear bags, and glanced at the boxes on their desks. "You can unpack them tomorrow, and consider yourself lucky," Gibbs ordered. Nodding, they strode out from behind their stations and loitered in front of Tony for a moment. Sensing the tact needed for the situation, because he wasn't _quite_ as clueless as they all thought, the team-lead headed for the lift. Before either of them could speak, Tony held up a hand and noticed it was just the three of them.

And felt another stab of gratitude.

"There's nothing left to say," he said firmly, "I've said what I had to say, and everything else is up to time. But…" he felt his face flush a bit and a spark of the familial fondness he felt for both of the two in front him push through, "you two had the damned guts to own up to _Gibbs_. On your _own_ , and throw yourselves under the bus to do it. And…well, that means a lot."

He sucked in another breath and shot the two a small smile. "You better go," he added quietly, suddenly feeling a pang of sympathy for what was about to happen to them, "boss-man isn't really in the waiting kind of mood."

As if by prompt, there was an expressive clearing of the throat over by the lift.

The two shot the SFA one last expressive look apiece, before walking determinedly to what was essentially their own doom. Watching them go, Tony literally had to scratch his head. It had been…one hell of a strange day.

Really one _hell_ of a curve ball kinda day.

Suddenly an expletive was heard just as the doors of the lift were about to shut, and just as Tony was snapping to, realising that he also had to head home. Turning slightly, he saw Gibbs re-enter and grab his cell that was still resting on his desks surface. "Getting forgetful in your old age, huh?" the younger man quipped, grateful of the levity. Snorting in response, and nodding ruefully, Gibbs slipped the phone into his pocket and stared steadily at the younger agent.

"Been a bit of a day huh?"

It was Tony's turn to snort.

"You got that one right."

Smiling sadly, Gibbs nodded and hesitated for a moment before speaking. "For what it's worth, I would have gone with whatever decision you made…but I think you made the right one and…I'm proud of you. Trust me…I'll make sure it won't happen again."

Tony didn't have any doubts on that score. And not just because of the unfortunate fate that awaited the two lift occupants. It went deeper than that. They… _got_ it, and he knew they would never _want_ to do anything like that ever again.

Maybe…just _maybe_ today wasn't _all_ that much of a bad thing.

Maybe it was needed, in a way.

A warning.

And the corresponding opportunity for change.

And he included himself in that. They all needed to make small adjustments…to heal an overall good thing. He felt his reservations about his safety in the field with McGee and Ziva dampen considerably. He was beginning to feel the peace that came with letting go. He knew he was a long way off completely getting there, but he was definitely on the right road.

They all were.

Nodding once more, Gibbs made to stride back to the lift, before being halted by a quiet voice. Turning, he eyed the kid intently. There once again seemed to be a battle raging in his second in command and so he waited patiently. Because, contrary to popular belief, he _could_ do patient…when it mattered. And right now…it mattered.

"Boss….just promise me one thing?"

Gibbs' nod was instantaneous.

"Don't kill them."

…..

A/N: Just my two cents worth re the whole Dead Air situation! I just felt that the scene where Ziva and Tim turned down their side of the radio was a total continuity error, because the relations between the three were pretty strong around that point and it also seemed pretty OOC for both of them. I also don't agree with some viewers that it was a "joke." I've read a few fic takes on what should have happened in response to it, and this is just mine! Turned out a _lot_ longer than I expected! Not at all intended to be Tim or Ziva bashing, I love their characters and I think I accounted for that by accounting for their own sense of regret. Anyhow, let me know what you guys thought?

-Inks


End file.
